


Behind the Mic

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Canon Compliant, Carlos is in denial, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, More fluff as it goes along, Not really OC's I promise, multi-chapter, nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Because we only know what happens two days every month... What happens during the other 28?Featuring Carlos's backstory, side characters & FREE bonus fluff!EDIT: Uncomplete and probably won't be continued until this summer, since I want to do it justice and that means not trying to plan the whole thing during the school year. (v_v)





	Behind the Mic

**Author's Note:**

> This is set just before the pilot episode. I'll edit it after I re-listen to make sure it follows the canon.
> 
> (Edited for compliance after the release of 'It Devours!')

Night Vale was a nice town, but a quiet one. Well, maybe not quiet. Last week all those disembodied heads had floated through the town, and they were pretty loud. Maybe sleepy was a better word. Or... Dull. Whatever word you used, they all pointed back to the same thing: Cecil Gershwin Palmer was bored out of his bleached-blonde skull. It was no fun being a newscaster when the only news was about run-of-the-mill stuff like giant strawberries eating a school bus. Everyone had already known strawberries weren't to be trusted! For Erika's sake, the bus was empty! Nobody even died! 

Cecil began to spin his desk chair in lazy circles, lamenting this particular bout of ennui. He extended one wingtip-clad foot and, gently, pushed off the edge of his desk. The chair rotated halfway around before slowing to an anticlimactic stop. He scooted back around to face the desk and pushed off again, harder this time. By the time intern Whoever came in to see why the evening broadcast was fifteen minutes late, Cecil and his chair were nothing but a white-and-purple blur.

Intern Kelly (that was her name! Kelly!) stuck her head further into the booth and looked around, wondering if the radio host was being pulled by some invisible spinning-forcefield. It didn't look like it, since man and chair were the only things affected, if that was the case. She coughed pointedly, and the chair ground to a sudden halt.  
"Oh! Intern Kelly. Didn't see you there. I was just..." The deep voice trailed into silence.  
"Right. Mr. Palmer, sir, the evening broadcast is seventeen minutes late. Is there... A reason for that?"  
The man threw his pale arms in the air dramatically, making the purple tattoo sleeves swirl.  
"There's no evening bored-cast because there's no evening news! Kelly. Please. Could you..." He bit his lip thoughtfully. "Could you do the news tonight? Tell the listeners one of the strawberries got me or something. I need to get out of here." And with that, he strode out of the booth, leaving Kelly standing in the silence, bewildered.

It had been half an hour, and Cecil was starting to regret his decision to leave the station. But there was no point in returning, since the evening broadcast was his last until the next morning, and he couldn't just march in and interrupt intern Kelly halfway through. Looking back, he felt he may have been a bit brisk with the girl. He didn't try to be, it was just, well... Who named their kid after a shade of green?! Lilac, now that would be a name. Or Violet. Lavender, maybe... Cecil was so lost in thought that he didn't realize where he was going until he was standing in the parking lot of Big Rico's. Whether he was there because his feet had followed the familiar path of their own accord or because some higher power had directed him, he didn't know. It was possible the Sheriff's Secret Police had led him there. He hadn't had his government-mandated weekly slice yet, and he supposed that now was as good a time as any to do so.

The bell screamed cheerfully as he pushed open the door, and a gust of warm, pizza-scented air greeted him. Judging by the smell, today's special was Onion & Gumdrop with white sauce. Ugh. Steve Carlsberg's favorite. Cecil frowned at the thought of the man.  
"Oh-- I'm sorry?"  
The source of the vague apology was a young, tan woman standing in front of Cecil, just inside the door. She was on her way out, and clearly struggling under a tower of fragrant boxes.  
"No, no, it wasn't you," Cecil apologized hastily. "I was just thinking of-- I LOVE your hair!"  
She looked a little taken aback by the sudden change of topic, but she lifted a hand to her smokey-pink ponytail, making the Leaning Tower of Pizza wobble precariously. (Cecil hurriedly leaned forward to help her support the stack).  
"Oh, thanks. But this is nothing-- you should see my boss's hair. It's glorious."  
Cecil smiled cheerfully and winked, making her blush (oops).  
"I'll believe it when I see it! It's my job to know everyone in Night Vale, and I've never seen hair like yours! Actually... You're not from around here, are you?"  
She ran her hand through her ponytail again, rather flirtatiously time.  
"Oh, no, actually; I'm with Boston Labs. We just moved in upstairs. You're welcome to come--"  
"Cecil!! I don't sacrifice goats for central air conditioning just for you to stand in the doorway and let all the warm air in!" The booming voice of Big Rico cut through their conversation like a pizza wheel through a California deep-dish. (Cecil really was getting hungry.) The woman laughed and made a 'busted!' sort of expression.  
"I really should get these upstairs. It was nice to meet you, ah..."  
"Cecil!"  
"It was nice to meet you, Cecil! I'm Zahri. I'll see you around, yeah?" She waved at him (nearly toppling the pizzas again) and made her exit, the bell screaming on her way out.

Cecil bounded merrily up to the counter.  
"Hey, Rico! Sorry 'bout your air conditioning!"  
Rico stared at him.  
"Cecil, I couldn't care less about my air conditioning. I have plenty of goats. But you have got to stop flirting with my customers."  
"Flir-- I wasn't flirting!" Cecil cried, indignant.  
"Son, with that voice, everything that comes outta your mouth sounds like flirting." (Rico called everyone under the age of thirty 'son' or 'girl.')  
"But that's ridiculous! I'm not even into girls! Everyone in town knows that; the only way not to would be if you were..."  
"New to the town?"  
"Right. Well, it won't happen again!"  
Rico raised an eyebrow and tried very, very hard not to smile at the earnest young man.  
Cecil, meanwhile, was already formulating tomorrow's broadcast. Finally, something new!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think & subscribe for chapter 2! Written on my phone, so as always, sorry about the formatting.  
> ~Canneberge


End file.
